Too Close for Comfort
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: "No, I'm not jealous." Jane and Kurt actually attend a gala this time around, and certain feelings get stoked.
**Title** : _Too Close for Comfort_ (1/1)
 **Universe** : Season 1 AU/Crossover  
 **Rating** : PG/PG-13  
 **Pairings** : Jane Doe/Kurt Weller, James Harding/Gwen Harding  
 **Summary** : "No, I'm not jealous."

 **Author's Note** : Based on off an ask/prompt I received on tumblr (Jeller + "No, I'm not jealous"). For those who don't know who James & Gwen are, you can find info about them on my LJ (link in the profile, as the kids say). It isn't totally necessary to know who they are to be able read this fic, but the inside jokes are fun. Please enjoy! :)

x x x

Jane couldn't take her eyes off the huge pillars at the front of the museum. They stood so tall and regal, it was as if they were guards, here to keep out the unwanted and unwelcome. Jane could feel her stomach flip as the car pulled to a stop, and she started being able to see the other guests arrive to the gala close-up—every single man wore a tuxedo and every single woman wore a dress so elegant and form-fitting it was like they each had walked off a runway with a customized outfit. (Which, she realized, given the class of people that came to this gala, that very might well be true.) Everyone looked so perfect, so at home here amongst the glamor and the style and the wealth… And Jane just sat there in the car and stared at it all open-mouthed, not feeling like she could even pretend to be a part of it, not this time.

She was still sitting there, still staring, when her door suddenly opened and Kurt's face appeared in front of hers. He held out a hand to help her up out of the car. "Ready to go?"

 _No,_ she almost said, but instead she swallowed the word and took his hand, letting him lift her up onto the sidewalk. _No_ wasn't an option, of course; it wasn't like they were really here to attend the gala, and could leave here at any moment. No, they were here for work, here to find a pair of Spanish art thieves before they stole anything else from the US's most high-profile art museums. The pair, the Casales, which the team had only recently got positive IDs on, had been on the FBI's to-arrest list for years, hindered only by the complete lack of evidence and total inability to ever catch the two in the act. But the couple was slated to attend the gala tonight, and the team hoped she and Kurt would find a way to get the truth out of them, or better yet, catch them red-handed. Jane looked at all the women swarming the front steps of the museum, and she imagined it would be taxing enough to just act like she was supposed to be here, let alone catch criminals, too.

Once they were on the sidewalk, and the car pulled away, Kurt tucked Jane's arm into his, and led the way up the carpeted staircase and into the museum. As they walked, she found herself glad her rented dress for the evening had a bit of a longer train; it allowed them to take their time on the stairs, and it also allowed her to keep her free hand busy holding the folds of the gown. They hadn't even walked into the gala yet, but already she wasn't sure she'd be able to get through this part without clenching her fists in anxiety over the very obvious fact that she did not belong here. Clutching the fabric of her dress seemed as good an excuse as any to keep her grounded. So did holding onto Kurt's arm.

She glanced at him as they reached the first landing, and they both paused a moment so she could adjust her grip on her dress before they continued walking. He was smiling at her, and she smiled back, as easily and honestly as she had been for weeks, despite her current nerves. He squeezed her arm with his, and pulled her a little closer as they headed up the next flight of stairs, and she didn't so much as blink at the close proximity. They had been dating for a couple months now, surreptitiously meeting up after work and on the weekends and, these past few weeks, spending nights at each others' houses.

They had yet to tell the team. Or Mayfair.

Jane knew neither of those were wise decisions, she knew they would eventually blow up in her and Kurt's faces, but she couldn't exactly find it in herself to change things. To be honest, she kind of liked it like this: just her and Kurt. It was nice, for once, to have a secret that made her happy, that she could choose to keep or not to keep. There would come a time to share it, of course, a time to set the record straight with her friends and coworkers and her boss's boss, but for now, she was simply happy to be with Kurt.

"Excited?" he whispered in her ear as they reached the top of the steps and, not for the first time, Jane wondered if he could read her mind.

She nodded a little, giving him a quick smile, but in all honesty, she felt more intimidated than excited. She had never been anywhere this fancy. Even Rich Dotcom's party, which she had thought such an extravagance when she'd gone, was nothing compared to this. That was child's play; that was a hacker pretending to host a dinner party. This… This was the real deal.

The women around her wore diamonds as big as the ones she wore to that party, but they weren't wearing them as collateral or to scope out buyers. They simply had that much money, that much class, that they could go out to a night on the town and wear something that cost more than what most people could hope to earn in their entire lives, and not think anything of it. The dresses, the makeup, the style, the heels, even the _conversation_ was out of Jane's league. As she and Kurt waited to be cleared through security, and checked against the guest list, she heard snippets here and there. Two couples were discussing the merits of vacationing in the Bahamas versus the islands off the coast of France. A pair of men were arguing over investments strategies, and another pair was discussing whether or not it was worth it to buy a private jet or to simply continue riding in first class for monthly transatlantic business trips. Eventually, they settled on purchasing the jet—as casually as if it were a movie ticket, or a pair of shoes.

Jane hung onto Kurt, keeping him close, scared that someone would try to pull her into a conversation where she'd have no idea what to say. She had been in the world six months, and she still felt like she knew so little about the world outside of her work. And it wasn't like she could talk about guns or ammo or tactical positions at a black-tie event like this. The people here were of a different class, and a different breed, altogether. She looked at them and wondered, for once, if she was the only human and they were all aliens.

"I'm out of place," Jane whispered in Kurt's ear, once they'd made their way through security and had their identities verified against the guest list.

"No, you're not," Kurt replied. He laughed a little, looking her up and down as they shuffled with the crowd towards the main lobby-turned-ballroom. "That dress you're wearing costs more than I make in a year. Trust me, you fit in fine."

"But I don't! Look around," she pressed, leaning closer to him out of necessity now, both because she knew to whisper these things, but also because he was rapidly becoming the only person she felt comfortable with at this party. No matter if they were undercover, and could pretend to be whoever they wanted, everyone else was a potential threat. They had to stick together. "These people… It's more than what they're wearing, or what they paid. Look at the way they walk! I mean—look at that woman," Jane hissed as they entered the main ballroom. She tipped her chin towards a statuesque blonde pausing at the top of the grand staircase to the right. She had a beautiful red dress on, with a deep plunging neckline that went so far down it almost reached her stomach; it made Jane wish she could show her body off like that, and not care what people would see. The woman stood tall, her back straight, her chin up, as if she knew she was being watched. She looked down and surveyed the room below her with an expression that Jane couldn't read. It was either very muted pleasure or controlled disdain. Or it was something completely different; Jane could not read that woman to save her life, and it wasn't just because she was standing a whole flight up from the ground. "She belongs here," Jane told Kurt. "I don't."

But he just smiled at her side, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her away from the woman above. "See, that's the great thing about being undercover," he whispered in her ear, so low no one could even hope to hear. "You get to pretend to be whoever _does_ belong." He tipped his head in the direction of the woman behind them, in the red dress, and Jane glanced over her shoulder to follow his gaze for a moment. "Pretend to be her, if you like. If it makes you feel more at ease."

"Pretend to be her?" Jane laughed quietly at the absurdity of his suggestion. "I think that would only make thing worse, to be honest. I wouldn't be able to pull it off."

"I've seen you pull off a hell of a lot in the last few months."

Jane turned back to him, quietly flattered when she heard the sincerity in his voice. "Thank you," she whispered. It didn't matter if they were dating; didn't matter if they spent nights at each other's houses. Right now, they were at work, and he was her boss, and it was nice to hear that she was doing well.

Kurt smiled, and reached out a hand to hold hers. For a second, he tugged her closer, holding her hand tight, and she watched him, finding herself holding her breath, waiting… She could see it in his face: he wanted to kiss her. But there were eyes on them this time; it wasn't like their near-suicide mission at Rich Dotcom's where they could have their hands all over each other because no one was watching. The team might not be here physically as backup—they couldn't sneak that many unknowns into as classy a party as this—and Patterson might not be in their ears—mics were too conspicuous—but still, the team was watching from home, cued into the security footage. And while she and Kurt could easily sell a kiss as part of the cover to the partygoers around them, she knew—and he did, too, obviously—that there would be looks afterwards from their coworkers, and awkward questions they wouldn't be able to easily brush off. And, it appeared, neither of them were quite ready for all that yet.

"Be right back," Kurt murmured, letting go of her hand and stepping back. "I need to check with our guy that security's up and running."

Jane nodded, letting him go to find their Bureau contact, disguised as a security guard. For a few seconds, she hovered in place, moving only as others moved around her, but not really doing anything. She didn't want to wander too far in case Kurt would've be able to find her later in the rapidly growing crowd. Waiters were starting to make their way through the masses of people, carrying an impossible number of champagne flutes on delicate silver trays, and while Jane thought alcohol might do something to settle her nerves, she didn't trust herself right now, to start drinking and still be able to stop later.

Unbidden, she found her gaze wandering back to that woman in red at the top of the stairs again. She was still there, still standing as tall and proud as before, and as Jane watched, a man with nicely combed brown hair and a beard came up beside her, and leaned close to whisper a couple words in her ear. Jane watched them, wondering what their relationship was; she thought she could see a ring on the woman's finger, so perhaps they were engaged? Or married, like she and Kurt were pretending to be?

The woman in red smiled when the bearded man leaned over and kissed her cheek, and Jane found herself surprised by the warmth of the woman's smile, even found herself drawn to it. Standing alone up there above the rest of the guests, the woman in red had seemed to Jane like a porcelain doll who didn't want to be touched, lest her perfect surface be marred. But apparently this man's touch was welcome; as she watched, Jane saw the woman draw him close by one of the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. They kissed slowly for a moment; the man let his hands rest lightly on her hips while the woman linked her arms loosely behind his neck, pulling him a little closer after a few seconds with a hand cupping the back of his neck. Jane was just thinking they made a sweet pair, when she saw one of the man's hands migrate from the woman's waist to her ass, cupping it almost obscenely as he pulled her close.

Jane looked away sharply at the salacious escalation, as much embarrassed for them as she was for herself. Didn't that couple realize they were in public, and that anyone could look up and see them together?

"Hey, we're good to go." Kurt appeared by her side as if out of nowhere, a welcome distraction at just the right time, filling her ear with possibilities as he continued, "So what do you want to do while we kill time until they arrive? Want to dance? Get a drink? Have some food?"

Jane thought for a moment, surveying the crowd around them. She couldn't see their suspects yet—likely it would take them some time to show, and even longer for them to be spotted—and she tried to think of the best place they could wait to see them arrive.

"How about dancing?" she proposed. Her stomach was still too nervous for food, and she didn't want to risk consuming alcohol and having it hinder her abilities in any way later. They were here for work, after all.

But when Kurt took her hand and led her to the dance floor, she forgot that's why they were here. She had always loved dancing with him, ever since that first time at Dotcom's party. She liked the way he held her, firmly but not tightly or too close; she liked the way he set the pace, and led them through the steps. They hadn't been on any undercover missions since that first one, but they'd danced a few times anyway, sometimes after they'd had a particularly good dinner together, and maybe a little extra wine.

She smiled as they began to join the dance with the other partygoers, remembering the first time she and Kurt had danced together at her safe house, just a few days after the mission to Rich Dotcom's estate.

Kurt had come by to cook dinner for her, and afterwards, when the plates were cleared but neither wanted to part yet, they'd started dancing. They'd been talking over dinner, about that mission that had drawn them closer together, and had led to them being together now, and she'd mentioned that she'd been surprised to find how easy dancing was. She credited him with it: he'd led, after all, and she'd just mimicked, following behind, but he'd refused such an explanation. He'd played a song on his phone, taken her hand, and pulled her to her feet. _You lead this time,_ he'd grinned, and she, already feeling pink in the face, had done her best. It had been embarrassing, at the time—she felt pressured by his expectation that she could do anything, and stumbled through a couple parts—but by the end of the first dance, she had things in order. They'd moved onto other dances then, and he went back to leading, teaching her the different steps.

She smiled now, thinking back on that memory with a smile. Kurt still regretted not taking her out for dinner for what he called "a proper first date," but she didn't mind. She loved that date, loved how close they were, how familiar and private it was to have him in her home.

Kurt noticed her smile as he spun her out, and pulled her back in.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, the corners of his lips turning up reflexively; he always smiled when she smiled. He used to say her smile was a rare thing, and that rare things should be appreciated. But she doubted her smile was very rare around him anymore.

"I'm thinking about our first dinner," she answered, lifting her chin to meet his eyes. "You know, where you cooked at my house, and we danced a bit, and—"

"—and Brody and Hammil nearly broke down the door, wondering if I was ever going to go back to my own home."

Jane laughed at his addition, having forgotten about that. Her security detail had stopped by at half past eleven that night, knocking on the door, wanting to know if they could drive Special Agent Weller back to his apartment before it got too late.

"I mean, I have to hand it to them, I guess," Kurt smiled, shaking his head at the memory. "They're very protective of you. I appreciate that."

"Would've been nice if they'd maybe waited a few seconds more, though," Jane murmured, remembering what her security detail had interrupted when they'd knocked on the door: Kurt's head had been bent towards her, his lips barely two inches from hers. They had been about to kiss, for the first time.

And then there'd been a knock on the door, which made them jump apart, like guilty secret lovers—which, Jane supposed, they had been. And were, still.

Kurt caught her eye, a reminiscing look in his. "Yeah, they picked the wrong moment," he agreed. His expression warmed a little as he lowered his voice and leaned closer, adding, "But we made up for it later, right?"

Jane pressed her lips together to hide a smile, glancing away from him as if that might hide the blush she could feel heating her cheeks at the memory.

Kurt's hand holding hers tightened a bit, and she felt the smoothness of his Bureau- issued wedding band against her skin for a second as he adjusted them, and drew her closer. "I wish I could make up for it right now," he murmured, his voice low, and a little rough, in a way that made her stomach spasm a bit in her body. She knew from experience what this tone of voice led to.

She didn't know what to say, and so she just danced with him for a moment, feeling his body so close to hers and wishing, so fervently and suddenly, that they were alone here, and free to do as they liked.

"I wish you could too," she said finally, leaning her head back to look up at him.

He eyed her for a moment, considering, calculating. "If we time it right…," he mused quietly, his eyes rising from hers, darting left, right. He was judging the ranges of the cameras, she realized after a second, and noting their timed rotations, and she laughed a little, shaking her head at his diligence.

"Look at you, all devious."

"Hey, it's not every night I get to take you to a world-class party for free," he quipped, catching her eye with a quick smile before looking back at the cameras. He paused a moment, and after a bit of quick mental mathematics Jane thought Patterson would be proud of if she knew, he instructed quietly, "In five seconds, rest your head on my right shoulder."

"Kurt…" Jane tilted her head, trying to find his eyes and communicate to him that the risk likely wasn't worth it, but he didn't bother meeting her eye.

"I'll time it right," he assured her as they rotated around the floor slowly, and he kept a quick eye on the cameras. "Three, two, one…"

With a quiet sigh, she did as asked, and rested her head on his shoulder. She was thinking again of the first time they'd danced at her safe house; she had rested her head against him then, too. He had been so warm beneath her then, so solid, and she had longed for the touch of his lips back then as she did right now, although she had been ignorant then, of how nice it would feel, ignorant of how good he would taste, of how she would come to yearn not only his lips on hers but every other part of him, too.

The kiss surprised her, when it finally came. He has hesitated so long, calculating, calculating, calculating, that she had shut her eyes and was resting blindly against him when he finally pressed his lips to hers. It was quick but intense, the touch of his lips to hers, the brief taste of his tongue, and it took all her strength to keep her hands where they were, and not to bury them in his hair, or wrap them around his back. She knew that would give them away; anything except this one, quick, calculated movement, hidden between crowds and sweeping cameras, would give them away.

Kurt was smiling when he pulled back, triumphant in his personal knowledge that they had pulled it off, and Jane smiled lazily back, lifting her head from his shoulder even though she didn't much feel like doing so at the moment. She knew she had her part to play; they might be newly married, their aliases, but that didn't mean they could fool around like this all night.

 _Work,_ she reminded herself as the song started to draw to a close. _We're at work_.

But Kurt's arm was warm and close against her as he wrapped it around her back once they broke apart, and it was hard to remember exactly how or why this was work. The small orchestra that had been playing the tune stood at the finish of the first song of the night and bowed, and Jane, following Kurt's and the rest of the guests' lead, clapped along in thanks. The players basked in the applause for a moment, and then took their seats again, and Jane was about to turn to Kurt, and ask what they should do next, when a man's voice spoke before hers could.

"Would you mind if I cut in?"

She stared at the intrusion, looking over at the voice and being surprised that she recognized the man it belonged to. It was the bearded man from before—from the top of the stairs, kissing the woman in the red dress. Jane looked around, but couldn't find the woman he'd accompanied earlier. She suddenly wondered if she'd got it all wrong, and that they weren't engaged or married. Maybe they weren't even together, if he was asking her to dance?

"You don't mind, do you?" the bearded man asked, not waiting for a reply before taking over Kurt's place, and putting one hand on her waist while taking her right in his. Jane watched him closely, suddenly worried his hand was going to drift to her ass as it had with the other woman. But he kept it in place, light and steady on her hip, and they moved together with the other dancers again, though with nothing close to the intimacy she and Kurt had shared.

Jane tried to look over her shoulder as they danced, to find Kurt's eye, but it was too hard to spot him amongst all the moving couples. The man dancing with her now had guided them to almost the center of the dance floor, and all she could see around her were other couples dancing, and none of them included Kurt.

"Looking for your husband?" her partner asked, breaking the silence between them as he spun her out nicely, and pulled her right back. He had a bit more of a flair than Kurt; she couldn't decide if she liked it or not. "Let me guess, you're newlyweds, right?"

Stupidly, Jane felt herself blush at the question as if it were a judgment, and a poor one at that. She wondered if this man had seen them kiss, and she didn't know why it made her stomach jump. Maybe because no one had ever seen her and Kurt kiss before—and now a whole room of high-powered socialites had. Jane did her best to play it off as she imagined a newly married woman might: slightly embarrassed, maybe, for decency's sake, but not shamed. "Was it that obvious?"

The bearded man smirked. "The kiss was a bit much."

"Your hand on that woman's ass was a bit much," Jane shot back, defensiveness rising in her before propriety could take its place. She bit her lip the second the words were out—too late, of course—and waited anxiously for the man's response. They weren't even halfway through the song, and they were in the middle of the dance floor—there was no way she could walk away from him without causing a scene and drawing undue attention to herself and, by extension, Kurt.

But far from looking offended, her partner only grinned, as if they were friends and he'd expected a jab like this from her. "Saw that, did you?" he chuckled.

Jane shifted her gaze away, avoiding his bright, obviously smug gaze. "I don't think there's a person in the room that didn't see that. You weren't exactly hiding."

"Nope," the man agreed cheerfully. "We're not very good at hiding, her and I. We don't even try anymore, to be honest."

"We…" Jane lingered on the word, eyeing the man leading her in the dance. His eyes shone with mirth, as if he were enjoying watching her puzzle this out. "So is she your wife? The woman in the red dress," Jane supplied, lamely, as if they both didn't know who they were talking about.

"The one I had my hands all over, you mean?" He grinned. "Yeah. She's quite a sight, isn't she?" He shook his head, as if complimenting some other man's wife, one he couldn't begin to fathom.

"Very beautiful," Jane replied diplomatically, just for something to say. And then, because she couldn't contain her curiosity: "How long have you been married?"

"Oh, just over five years at this point."

Jane couldn't help the way her eyes widened, and it made the man laugh as he twirled her in the dance, and brought her back.

"Surprised, I take it?"

"I just…" Jane shook her head, remembering the way the two had kissed—they'd been like teenagers up there, hands all over each other. "I was thinking you were newly married," she supplied finally.

"Nope," he answered easily, popping the _p_. "Been tied down for a while now." He nodded towards her. "And you? How long ago did you get married?"

"Two and a half months," Jane replied, immediately supplying the length of her and Kurt's actual relationship without thinking.

"Two and a half months?" The man grinned, laughing at the answer, and Jane tried not to stiffen as they danced; had her answer been telling in some way? "God," he continued, chuckling, before she could wonder much longer, "I have to give you two some credit for the kiss, then, I suppose. I'm impressed at your self-restraint. In my experience, most newlyweds don't make it through the first hour at a party like this without sneaking off to a dark corner."

Jane did her best to remain neutral at the comment, though she knew her face was betraying her. She could feel it heat, and then get hotter when her partner noticed, and laughed.

"Oh, nothing to be ashamed of," he grinned and, seeing what she had of him, Jane thought he was probably being sincere. But it didn't made her feel any less watched or judged. "I mean, I don't think my wife and I even got out of bed for the first two and a half months of our marriage. You two've already got a leg up on us."

It was so ridiculous—Jane couldn't help it, she laughed.

"What?" the man pressed, laughing too, as they danced. "You think I'm lying?"

"No, actually," Jane smiled. "I feel like you might be being completely honest with me right now; that's why it's funny."

He chuckled at that, but before he could say anything, the strings fell away and the couples around them began splitting apart. Jane was about to step back, to search for Kurt again, but her partner kept ahold of her hand.

"Another dance?"

"Oh, I probably shouldn't," Jane said quickly. "My, um, my husband is probably—"

"—getting jealous?" her partner supplied readily, his eyes alight.

Despite herself, Jane couldn't help but smile. This man's audacity had quickly morphed from appalling to annoying to just plain funny. It was refreshing, after so much time with the usually quiet and closed-off Kurt, to be around someone who so readily gave into their every whim and voiced their every thought, no matter how inappropriate. It was even more refreshing because she knew she could leave this man behind at any moment, and go back to what was familiar and comfortable. "I was going to say, my husband is probably waiting for me," Jane corrected, laughing a little herself at the idea that Kurt might be jealous. Was he the type to get jealous?

"That may also be true." The man grinned, and held onto her hand a moment longer to bend down, and kiss the back of it. Jane blinked at the gesture, a bit too taken aback to say or do much of anything. "I'll let you go," he said, finally releasing her hand but holding her eyes with a look she couldn't quite decipher. He looked amused at something she wasn't sure she understood. Regardless, she knew it was time to get back to Kurt, to regroup and check their surroundings, and so she started to turn away.

She'd only made it a couple steps when she realized what was off.

"Hey," she called, turning back. "I didn't catch your name."

"No, and I didn't catch yours." Her former dance partner flashed her a quick smile, and dipped his head. "Have a lovely night, ma'am."

Before Jane could say a word, he walked away, cutting his way easily through the crowd in the opposite direction from where she had been heading. Jane watched him go until his disappeared among all the other tuxedoed men, wondering what in the world all that had been about.

"Don't tell me we're going to have to start divorce proceedings."

Jane jumped at the voice in her ear, the strong hand now wrapping itself a little too tight around her back.

"What?" Jane asked, glancing over to Kurt, smiling reflexively after a brief moment of surprise. She remembered her dance partner's earlier comment, and she couldn't help herself from saying, "Oh, don't tell me you're jealous? Really?"

The stern tenor of his replying "No" and the little bit of color that had come into his cheeks made her laugh, and lean into him.

"Nothing to be jealous about," she whispered as she reached over to squeeze Kurt's hand wrapped around his waist. He made a quiet, reserved noise in the back of his throat, but Jane didn't bother pushing him. After all the secrecy they'd had for the last couple months, it was kind of nice, actually, to see him publicly annoyed at someone else's interest in her—even if it hadn't been romantic interest. Or had it? Jane was still not sure what that dance had been about. It had seemed like that man simply took pleasure in toying with her, for no reason other than that she was easily flustered by him. Looking back, Jane supposed it made sense: it was probably rare that that woman he was married to ever got flustered by anything.

"What did you two talk about?" Kurt asked, leading them back to the edge of the dance floor and to a clear space where they could discuss for a moment, without being overheard.

Jane smiled, hearing the quiet but firm curiosity in his voice. The _need_ to know. She remembered the earlier exchange between herself and the bearded man she'd danced with, and bit her lower lip so she wouldn't smile too wide. She glanced over at Kurt briefly, wondering why he would say if she told the truth…

"We talked about sex," she answered honestly, taking supreme delight in the way Kurt's eyes almost seemed to pop out of his head.

" _What_? Did he hit on you?"

"No," Jane shook her head, laughing at Kurt's immediate response. Then, she considered for a moment. "Well… I don't know. Not really. But he was strangely… bold, I guess. It wasn't really directed at me, just kind of… in general." She remembered the way he'd kissed his wife earlier, and how he hadn't blinked an eye when Jane had brought it up. "He was very unashamed."

"Huh." Kurt frowned a bit at that, but after a moment, shook his head, as if doing away with the subject.

They stood together for a moment, surveying the room from their place off to the side, searching once more for their suspects. Or at least, Jane knew that's what she _should_ be doing. Instead, her eye kept traveling back to the man she'd danced with and his wife in red; they were lingering together by the bar, talking to another couple as they waited for their drinks. Jane noticed the woman was holding tight onto her husband's hand, and she felt a jolt of surprise—was it possible that woman, that beautiful blonde in the fabulous red dress, was worried that husband of hers might slip away again? Had she been watching them while they'd danced together? Had her mind been wandering to jealous places like Kurt's had?

"Why were you talking about sex with him?"

Jane's eyes flew to Kurt's at the question, surprised and strangely pleased to find his eyes lingering on the same couple she'd been eyeing.

"We…" It took Jane a second to get her head back on straight; Kurt had turned to look at her, and sometimes those eyes of his made her forget what she was supposed to be talking about. "He brought it up," she began. "He asked how long we were married, and I said a couple months, and he wanted to know why…" The thought made her cheeks heat now, with Kurt, just as it had with the other man. "He wanted to know why you and I hadn't snuck off to a—a private place yet," she finished quickly, avoiding Kurt's eye, avoiding the couple across the room. She did her best to stare resolutely into the crowd, to search it for their suspects, and she was still doing so when she felt Kurt's arm wrap a little tighter around her waist as he hugged her closer.

She could feel the warmth of his breath when he bent towards her, whispering in her ear, "We can sneak off later, if you like. Once we finish what we're here to do."

She bent towards him too, smiling at the suggestion. "Maybe," she whispered back. "But we still… We have to do what we came here to do."

The reminder was more for herself than for him, but Kurt nodded quickly in response, and straightened up, surveying the room in full once more. "It's impossible from this vantage point," he murmured, annoyed, watching each guest get lost in the endless shift of bodies. "We need high ground, or closer access to more of the guests."

Jane nodded, thinking on that. Her eyes moved to the staircase she'd been watching before; she wondered if anything was up there that they could make an excuse to visit while they scanned the crowd. She hadn't seen anyone on that upper balcony since the woman in red and her husband had descended. Was that space off-limits now?

She was trying to think of another, easier way to scope their suspects out of the crowd, and it came to her just as she realized she needed to use the bathroom: the ladies' room would be a perfect place to scope out one-half of their two suspects. At some point, every woman had to come in through there during the night.

Kurt smiled when she started to excuse herself. "Am I supposed to take this as an invitation to follow after you in a couple minutes?"

Jane shook her head, wishing she could hide her bright face as she muttered, "No, you're not."

"Pity," Kurt teased, but he let her go without another word. And when she glanced back over her shoulder, he was still watching. It made her wish they weren't here to do a job, and that he was about to follow in her footsteps.

After relieving herself, Jane loitered in the bathroom as long as she could. Her plan of spending an extended amount of time there was foiled the moment she walked in and realized a party like this had bathroom attendants: she couldn't just stand in the bathroom the whole time, watching guests rotate through. They would think she was up to something.

Nonetheless, she waited as long as she could, lingering as she washed her hands, and dried them, and pretended to fix her hair and makeup. She eyed every woman that came and went, but none matched the photos the Bureau had on had for their alleged female art thief: dark hair, bronze skin, petite, brown eyes. She looked everywhere for the woman whose face she'd been studying all week, but the effort proved useless. Finally, she decided to gather herself and head back to the main room. Perhaps she and Kurt could find a way to get to the top of that staircase after all, and look out on the crowd.

When she came back into the ballroom, however, he was nowhere to be seen. She immediately searched the general vicinity of where she'd left him, but she couldn't pick him out amongst any of the other men lingering around. She looked over at the bar—no such luck. She glanced at the other corners of the room—nothing. She was about to give up, and head to the top of the stairs herself, to find him as well as their suspects, when a flash of red caught her eye.

She stopped what she was doing and just stood there, open-mouthed, when she saw who it was the woman in red was dancing with. She blinked once, twice, three times—but it was still Kurt with her, still her would-be husband, her actual boyfriend, dancing with that… _Goddess_ , Jane's mind supplied through the numbness of shock, and she accepted the word immediately, knowing there was no descriptor in the world that fit that woman better. It's what the woman had been, earlier in the night when she'd surveyed the little humans running around beneath her from the top of the staircase. It's what she'd been when her husband had kissed her, unable to keep his hands off her even in public. It's what she was now, moving quickly across the dancefloor with Kurt and the other couples, a few inches taller than him in her heels.

Jane watched from afar as they moved about the room; the number was quicker than the slow waltzes she'd been doing before, and she was impressed at their agility. It was clear the woman was the better dancer, quicker and more graceful on her feet, and after a couple minutes, Jane felt her shock morph into amusement. She had to bring a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter at how inept a dancer Kurt seemed with this other woman. Jane realized as she watched them moving about the floor, him trying to keep up with her even though he should be the one leading, that she had never really seen him underperform at anything before. It was oddly endearing to witness. It made her want to hug him.

But then the couples turned in the dance, and she caught a flash of his face, grinning widely at the woman he was dancing with— _laughing_ , even—and Jane didn't feel so much like hugging him anymore. She felt like yanking him out of that woman's hands, and stealing him away so he could be all hers. Maybe she could drag him off to a dark corner after all… She pressed her lips together, feeling her hands close unconsciously into fists; she should've taken him up on his silly offer before, to follow her to the bathroom. She should've kissed him longer, snuck away with him earlier. She should not have cared about etiquette or watchful eyes; she should've been more like that goddess in red and her shameless husband; she should've—

"Don't tell me you're getting jealous now, too?"

Jane jumped at the question. It was the bearded man from before again; she knew it before she even turned to meet his eye. He was smirking at her, eyes alight, and it took more willpower than she'd like to admit to, to keep herself from scowling at his obvious amusement at her predicament. She did not like this man, she decided suddenly. Who cared if he had been amusing for two minutes earlier? She did not abide by people that mocked her; she'd had enough of that these past six months.

"No, I'm not jealous," she told him firmly. Her voice came out a little sharper than usual, and she berated herself for it. It wasn't like Kurt was actually her husband. And they'd only been dating for only a couple months, it wasn't like anything was serious yet. And he was just _dancing_ with that woman; why was she getting so worked up about it? What was she, a teenager with her first crush? _Yes, that's exactly what you are,_ a voice in her head whispered, but she shoved it aside.

The man tipped his chin towards the couple dancing. "No worries there," he smiled, sidling up beside Jane and stretching his shoulders a bit as he put his hands in his pockets. "My wife is relentlessly faithful. She won't make any moves."

"And you?" Jane heard herself asking, her eyes still on the couple, her fake husband and this man's real wife. "Are you relentlessly faithful?"

The bearded man paused a moment beside her, long enough that Jane glanced over to see why he was hesitating. He looked like he was trying not to laugh. "Let's just say… Let's say I know better than to cross my own wife. She gets dangerous when she feels wronged." Jane hardly had time to wonder over what in the world that response meant before the man was eyeing her curiously. There was that familiar amusement in his eyes again, and it made Jane wonder if this man took anything at all seriously—besides not cheating on his wife, apparently. "What about your husband?" he asked. "Does he know better than to cross you? Because you look like you're two minutes away from starting a catfight in the middle of this party. Not that you'll win it," he added quickly, with a flash of that cocky grin Jane was quickly becoming sick of seeing.

"I'm not starting anything," Jane muttered, doing her best not to cross her arms in indignation; that would only prove his point. "I just…" She faltered a moment, unsure of what to say, unsure, even, of what she was feeling. She didn't know where this insecurity, this jealousy had come from. The feelings were strong and ugly and she did not like the way they ran rampant through her body. She was used to being in control of herself, and she hated that she hadn't been earlier.

"Hey, I get it," the man said quietly, and Jane glanced over at his quiet tone of voice. He shrugged at her curious gaze, and turned back to the dancing crowd. "It's no fun seeing somebody you love with someone else."

Jane watched him, surprised by his sudden seriousness, but the man did not turn back towards her or say anything else. He just kept his eyes on his wife, watched her move about the room, and after a few seconds, Jane followed suit, her eyes on Kurt. They watched together until the dance ended, and their respective partners separated. Jane was about to step away, to go to Kurt, when the bearded man turned to her, placing himself between her and Kurt as he bent towards her.

"You'll want to go to the sub-basement soon," he murmured in her ear, so close that she could feel his beard brush against her hair, and the warmth of his breath against the shell of her ear.

She stared at him as he pulled away, not knowing what to say. She could feel her stomach roiling and her heart pounding in her chest. Was he propositioning her? Just like that? Is that how these encounters worked?

"Sub-basement…?" She couldn't even finish the sentence. She felt vaguely sick—not just because this man was hitting on her, and Kurt was thirty feet away, but also because this man had just been going on and on about how faithful he and his wife were to each other. He had just confessed, clearly from personal experience, how much it hurt to see someone you loved with someone else. Had all that just been an elaborate lie, a ploy, something to charm her into easy security before he came in for the kill?

"What the hell…?" she started to ask, feeling anger bubble to the surface along with fear, but the bearded man just smiled at her mix of fury and confusion. She hated how cavalier he was, so much so that she almost wanted to hit him, right here in the middle of the party.

The man nodded his chin down at the floor. "The couple you're looking for, the Casales," he explained, "they're down in the sub-basement now." He glanced at his watch. "In about… fifteen minutes, I think, they'll have the have the paintings they want out of the vault. Their getaway car is waiting just inside the loading bay. If you make it down there quick enough, I'm sure you'll be able to stop them. Just be careful not to get any bullet holes in the Picassos, won't you? They're rather priceless, if you weren't already aware."

"What…" Now Jane felt her heart beating and her stomach turning for an entirely different reason. How in the world did this man know who she was, where she had come from, and what her mission was here? If he knew, who else knew? And was he sending her to the sub-basement out of some sense of duty and goodwill, or was he setting her up for an ambush? She stared, wondering how much he knew. Did he only know that she was FBI? Or did he know about the tattoos hidden beneath her dress, beneath her makeup? Did he know her real name, her past?

"How do you know all this?" she demanded.

He smiled, and shrugged. "For the moment, our interests align. Suffice to say I don't like the people downstairs, and I'd rather you did my legwork for me. I'm at a party, after all, not here on business like you two. As for how I know you aren't who you say you are…" He laughed a moment, and then sobered some when he saw the fierce look in her eyes. He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I mean, no offense, missus, you did everything right! You're very beautiful, and you've got the right dress and the right makeup, and you're clearly very smitten with your partner over there, so the marriage plot was a believable ruse…" He shrugged. "I've just been around the block a few times, is all. And you feds stick out like sore thumbs in these sorts of situations." At her look of utter confusion, he grinned, and leaned towards her, lowering his voice to impart a secret: "You two keep to yourselves too much. These parties are for networking, boasting, making friends; they're for showing off wealth and being the center of attention…" His smirk widened suggestively. "They're _not_ for hiding off in a corner with your secret lover."

Jane could feel her face flame hotter than ever. "We're not secret—"

"Oh, come on now," the man laughed. "Are we really going to continue lying to each other? I saw him check the camera angels before he kissed you. And I've been watching you both doing your best to hold back from each other all night. Not that you've really succeeded—"

"Why are you saying all this?" Jane interrupted.

"To be honest?" The man grinned. "It's fun! And I find these parties very boring; I need something to amuse me. You two were easy targets." He tipped his head again towards the floor. "But you should probably run along now—you know, if you want to actually do your job at some point tonight."

Jane opened her mouth to protest, to tell this man to shut up, to tell him that he didn't know the first thing about what her job entailed, but he was backing away with a wave before she could even get the right words straight in her head.

"Give the fake husband a real kiss for me sometime tonight, won't you? Hope it works out. I'll be pulling for you from the other side of the law."

Jane tried to reach after him, to demands answers, but he slipped away as easily as he had before, and she couldn't push her way through the guests to get after him even if she'd wanted to. She looked around desperately, not sure who she wanted to find first—Kurt, or that man, or his wife—but her decision was made for her when she all but slammed into Kurt, spinning in place to find an exit.

He caught her immediately, his hands grasping onto her arms to right them both, and once they were steadied, he started talking to her about this strange woman who'd asked him to dance, and all the odd things she'd said to him. Jane would've been interested ten minutes ago, in hearing all about how that woman had played him, but right now, all she could think about was what that man had said, and how easily he'd walked away, and that she had a choice: either hunt those two down right now, and find out who they were and why they knew what they knew—or go after the thieves he'd said were in the basement.

"Downstairs," she said finally, interrupting Kurt in the middle of a sentence she wasn't listening to. "The people we're looking for—the Casales couple—they're downstairs, in the vault already."

Kurt stared at her a moment, disbelieving, but he didn't protest when she tugged on his hand and led him to the back of the room, and past the security guarding the staircase to the lower levels.

"How did you figure this out?" he whispered, running by her side as they made their way as quickly and quietly as they could down the marble steps. "Did you see them go by?" Jane shook her head at the questions, pushing them away for now, and grateful that the chase allowed her an excuse to do so. Kurt fell silent at her side, his borrowed gun from security in his hand as they finally reached the first sub-basement. They both paused, listening. Jane strained to hear anything besides the noise of the party floating down from above, but it was hard to focus. She had her own borrowed gun in her hand, and she held it close but not too tight, taking comfort in it as she had Kurt's hand earlier. She was back in the world she understood, and it felt good.

She was about to suggest they move closer, try their luck stepping out into the hall, when a pair of quick footsteps could be heard moving in what sounded like the opposite direction. Jane didn't hesitate, didn't wait, she turned around the corner and shot the man she saw carrying a painting away. She got him in the shoulder, and he flinched, crying out, but he thankfully didn't drop the artwork on the floor. He cradled it against him with one hand, moving towards the wall to steady himself, and shouted out something in what Jane assumed to be Spanish, though she couldn't tell what it was he said. Kurt, though, was able to translate in a moment and act, disarming the woman before she could attack them from another doorway.

With the help of the museum's security staff, they had the suspects cuffed and isolated in minutes. A in-house medic attended to the man's gunshot wound after he was secured, assuring them both that it hadn't be anywhere near fatal, and that he'd be fit for questioning once they got back to the Bureau offices. His wife, hardly harmed, waited in the other room and spat out what had to be curses in Spanish whenever anyone got close to her. While they were being corralled, the gala upstairs was evacuated, and Jane actually had to remind herself to stay downstairs with her suspects while everyone stormed out, so she wouldn't wander back above ground to see where the bearded man and the woman in the red dress wandered off to. She felt the odd urge to thank him, or, at the very least, ask how he'd known what was going on down here. He'd said something about being on the other side of the law; she wondered if he was an art thief, too. Had he turned the Casales in because he'd wanted their scores for himself? Or had he just been a fan of the museum and wanted to keep its collection safe? Given his penchant for amusement earlier in the evening, she highly doubted the latter was true.

Jane turned, pushing the thoughts away, when she heard Kurt called her name; she was surprised to see him waving at her from a far spot down the hall. She checked back on their suspects a moment, relieved to see the back-up Bureau agents had arrived to watch over them, and then made her way over to Kurt. She could see him thinking on something hard as she stepped closer, and she felt her stomach twist a bit; she knew he was still curious about how she'd thought to come down here, and how she had managed to time it so right.

"It was just a lucky guess," she explained before he could ask, not wanting to say much here, where they were still surrounded by Bureau agents and museum personnel. It wouldn't serve either of them if she admitted the only reason she knew where their suspects were was because her and Kurt's covers hadn't held up to scrutiny.

"Maybe you'll tell me about it later?" Kurt suggested, following along with her excuse easily.

Jane nodded, and, remembering what that bearded man had said about a real kiss earlier, she smiled. She shifted a little closer to Kurt so she could grab his hand quickly without being seen. "Maybe you can come by tonight, after the interrogation is over, and we can talk about it?" she suggested quietly.

"Maybe," he agreed, his eyes bright with promise even if the firm set of his mouth didn't betray anything to potential onlookers. She ducked her head so no one could see her smile at his attempt to remain professional. _Smitten_ , the bearded man had called her. Well, she supposed that was as apt a description as any—for both her, and for Kurt.

"I promise Brody and Hammil will mind their own business this time," she added.

Kurt cracked a smile at that, and actually laughed. She grinned at the sound.

"Sounds like a plan," Kurt said finally, catching her eye. "I'll be there."

Jane smiled at the confirmation, and was about to walk away, to head back their apprehended suspects, when she suddenly thought better of it. After a quick glance over her shoulder to check that the hallway they were standing in was momentarily clear, she leaned up on her heels and kissed his cheek.

"I'll see you later tonight, then," she promised, and then she went back to work, smiling the whole time because she could feel him watching her once more, unable to look away.

x x x

 **A/N** : Sorry this one was super long, but hope you enjoyed! Leave me your thoughts. :)


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